


My bedsheets smell like You

by HQ_Wingster



Series: Mr. and Mr. Alpha [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alpha/Alpha, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Boys In Love, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Domestic Fluff, Established Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Fluffy Ending, Happy Ending, Kissing, M/M, Married Couple, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Scenting, Scents & Smells, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 05:38:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13780857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HQ_Wingster/pseuds/HQ_Wingster
Summary: Five times Viktor tries to get out of bed + the one time he does





	My bedsheets smell like You

**Nesting**

Word of mouth once said,  _ “If this object in my hand is fluffy, it shall belong to my nest!” _

The concept of nesting was a bit foreign to Viktor. There was probably a therapeutic appeal to it, with all the comfy textures and colors melded together. There was probably a comforting appeal to it, seeing how familiar scents were nearby to help ease the nerves. Heck, nesting may’ve been a survival trait. Judging by how frequent they were created and destroyed through the sheer determination of an Omega. But for an Alpha, or at least for Viktor, he didn’t quite understand how or why someone could spend literal  _ hours  _ laying in a nest and doing nothing.

No better way to understand than to try it himself, at least that was what Viktor’s rationale told him when he piled fresh laundry onto the bed. The mattress sagged, a thick clouded scent of fabric softeners saturated Viktor’s nose when he removed the stray sheets and sifted them onto the floor. Crawling into the steamy mountain of clothing, Viktor wiggled around until he dug himself a “hole”. By “hole”, he pushed shirts and pants away from his torso until there was a comfortable space for him to sink into. Sort of like he was in a kiddie pool, but this pool was made with soft textures for Viktor to ease into.

He grabbed his pillow, propped it under his head, and stared at the ceiling. There, spun a fan that waved heavy detergent around and around until Viktor felt dizzy because his nose followed the scents. Other than that, the makeshift nest began to grow on Viktor. Maybe literally when parts of the nest caved in, burying Viktor under a towel that Yuuri had used for the past week. Even through a wash, Viktor felt a rush when he picked up on Yuuri’s cinnamon scent. How it reminded Viktor of a fresh cup of tea on a rainy morning, that little bit of warmth that brought a smile to him.

He tucked the towel next to his neck. Somewhere, his fingers grazed over some shirts, jackets, and  _ oh!,  _ Viktor snuggled his face against Yuuri’s pillow case. Okay, this nesting wasn’t too bad. Viktor was sniffing around and finding comfy spots for his joints, but he couldn’t imagine him laying here for hours. Until literal hours passed by in a blur because every touch Viktor felt in the nest sparked a memory in his mind, and Viktor found his happy place. He didn’t want to leave. The warmth weighed his limbs down, and all this softness brightened his heart.

When Yuuri came home from Yakov’s rink, he found Viktor in the nest. Everything, from the sheets, to the socks, to the clothes, and to the doorway smelled like Viktor. Yuuri asked if he could join in the nesting, and Viktor sculpted another “hole” for Yuuri to nestle in.

 

**Scenting**

Early one morning, just before the sun was up, Viktor found Yuuri’s hand. It was soft, tender, and Viktor rested it against his cheek. Fast-asleep as he was, Yuuri didn’t stir when Viktor kissed his fingers. A gentle touch at every knuckle and fingernail, “waking up” every joint until the fingers slowly caressed Viktor’s face. Yuuri shifted a little in his sleep, still asleep. Perhaps, a smile on his lips when Viktor hovered snuggled closer to him. Their scents-- _ bits of peppermint and cinnamon-- _ circled each other like players in a dance, hand in hand.

Shifting their blankets, Viktor leaned close to Yuuri’s shoulder. His breath warmed the small patch of skin on Yuuri’s neck. Peeling back a blanket’s edge, Viktor rested his cheek on Yuuri. He rubbed his scent over the slight bulge of a scent-gland, and the smell of cinnamon tickled Viktor’s nose. Yuuri rolled over and Viktor pulled away until his love found a comfy spot again. His eyes were still closed, but his hands reached out and touched the warm space between him and Viktor. Soon, the fingers trailed over Viktor’s bare chest.

Yuuri felt Viktor’s heartbeats, noticing how they quickened when he moved up trailed his fingers over Viktor’s scent-glands. Viktor cradled Yuuri’s hand in his own hands, and he whispered sweet-somethings in the stillness of that morning. When Viktor was about to leave, Yuuri’s lashes fluttered slowly and he asked if Viktor could stay. Just a tiny bit longer.

Oh, Viktor fell in love all over again with those simple words. He laid still on his half of the bed as Yuuri wiggled over, tugging his sheets along with him. He wrapped his arms and legs around Viktor, keeping him snugged. Yuuri’s breath tickled Viktor’s neck, and Viktor pressed a kiss on his lover’s forehead just before Yuuri scented Viktor. Their legs shifted under the sheets, tangled together in a beautiful mess when Viktor reached over and snugged Yuuri against his chest.

They fell asleep, their breaths curling upwards like trails of smoke on a cold, foggy morning.

 

**Sick meal** **  
** No one was immune to the common cold, and Viktor accepted that truth every time he found himself sick and curled in bed. A box of tissues, in arm’s reach when Viktor yanked a few sheets and blew his nose. Makkachin, perched at the edge of the bed, pawed softly into the mattress and borked. A booming sound and it jolted Viktor. He turned his head and met Makkachin’s gaze. Makkachin tilted her head to the side. It was one of her ways to wish Viktor well, and Viktor couldn’t kiss his pride and joy because of the cold. All he could do was whistle, and Makkachin came over and plopped over Viktor’s lap. While Viktor scratched and rubbed Makkachin’s body, the poodle borked some of her favorite tunes from the kitchen radio. Viktor sang along.

Sometimes with coughs. Sometimes with sneezes. Viktor dabbed into his elbow, containing the cold to himself. He fluffed Makkachin’s fur, whispering how he wished he could do more right now. His words reached to the doorway, where Yuuri stood. An apron tied around his waist and torso, a dark blue to complement his glasses frames. A bowl of soup in one hand, and a rubber ball in the other so that Viktor could play with Makkachin in one way.

Viktor and Makkachin scooted over, making room for Yuuri to sit down after he set Viktor’s meal on the nightstand. He checked Viktor’s temperature with an expert hand, whispering that Viktor should feel better in a few days. Viktor hoped so. He blew his nose into a tissue and wished that he could do more right now. Yuuri hummed a soft tune as he stirred Viktor’s soup. Chunks of chicken swirled around, and the creamy rice looked like a bed of clouds in a bowl.

Yuuri spooned a portion and tipped the contents into Viktor’s mouth. Between chews and swallows, Viktor promised that once he was in better health, he’d repay Yuuri. A pause in the spoon stirring and Yuuri set the bowl back onto the nightstand. Viktor didn’t have to repay him. There was no need. But if Viktor was adamant about it, and he was with the flutter of his lashes, Yuuri proposed that the best repayment was to see Viktor in better health.

Yuuri released a comforting scent. It produced a slight buzz in Viktor’s mind, eliciting a growl between his teeth because it was an Alpha-scent. Not because Viktor felt threatened, but because he wanted Yuuri to know that he was still strong. It was kind of childish to do that, but Yuuri played a long. He leaned in and growled into Viktor’s ear. Viktor felt hairs rise in the back of his neck, and a different scent wafted off of Yuuri. Almost  _ sensual  _ in nature, partially because they rarely ever growled at each other. Unless they wore their passion on a sleeve, and Viktor vaguely remembered when Yuuri’s last…

The thought hovered at Viktor’s lips when he found himself enveloped in Yuuri’s embrace. Makkachin licked at Yuuri’s arms, poking her nose against his skin. Ears perked up when Yuuri dragged his nails across her back, and Makkachin rolled around so that Yuuri could scratch her itchy spots.

 

**A moment of perspective**

Viktor’s first taste of champagne came in the form of Yuuri’s lips, pressed sloppily in the moment when Yuuri stumbled past the threshold to their apartment door. A “hideous” tie wrapped around his head, and Yuuri sang off-key as he bellowed his love and adoration through a mixture of Russian and Japanese phrases. Half of which, Viktor didn’t understand because Yuuri’s Kyushu accent was about as strong as sixteen flutes of champagne. Yuuri danced around, chirping about the darndest things. Like how Makkachin was going to live forever, like how Yurio was growing softer, like how Yakov was going to get younger one day, and about how the ocean was as deep as Viktor’s eyes.

Up close like this, with Yuuri hanging onto Viktor by a thread because his arms felt like noodles when they were around Viktor’s neck, Yuuri closed his eyes. His glasses were long-gone, skidded to somewhere in the living room because they fell and Yuuri accidentally kicked them to the edge of oblivion. His lips, parted slightly for Viktor’s touch, and Yuuri got on his tippy toes so that Viktor didn’t have to lean down. His bond-mark, a tinge of pink riding up Yuuri’s neck and accompanied by the booze in his system, stood out under the dozens of lights above the couple. The bite seemed so fresh, yet the bond was made just a year ago on the morning after Yuuri and Viktor got married. Where Viktor and Yuuri promised the rest of their lives to each other, and it was a fuzzy memory to think about because Yuuri asked for a kiss right after the bond was made.

A little bit like now, how Yuuri lost balance on his tippy toes and slouched against Viktor’s chest. He wiggled around and yelped. Viktor carried Yuuri in his arms, asking Yuuri if they could spend the rest of the night kissing. Maybe Yuuri heard something a little different because he told Viktor that they were already married and that they didn’t need to get married again. Their rings glowed brightly when Viktor stole a kiss from Yuuri’s champagne lips. Oh, Yuuri purred and rested his head against Viktor’s shoulder. Viktor walked like a newlywed when he carried Yuuri to the bedroom.

About an hour or two later, Viktor scratched the back of his neck. His fingers traced over the fresh marks and scratches that Yuuri lovingly marked him with. Yuuri, too, had some of Viktor’s marks. He slept on his half of the bed, curled  with his knees touching his chest. Ears perked when they heard a rustle. Viktor wanted to grab a glass of water for Yuuri, but Yuuri told him that it could wait. Yuuri licked his lips, mouth dry from all the champagne in his system. Rubbing his forehead, he asked Viktor if he was real. Viktor patted Yuuri’s shoulder, drumming his fingers along the skin.

_ This is real. _

 

**Rut**

There was this odd pit in Viktor’s chest when the season came. Ruts were sort of like seasons in their own way, coming and going with the change of the times. Often, an Alpha didn’t notice them until they were neck-deep into a rut and couldn’t leave the bed because of... _ well,  _ Viktor had a situation.

Yuuri’s eyes snapped open as soon as Viktor’s rut kicked in at three in the morning, and Viktor panted against his pillow and growled under his breath. Reaching out to blank space because he wanted to hold something. Yuuri rolled over, bangs swept over his eyes, and he quickly tore blankets off of Viktor’s body. Viktor’s skin was hot to the touch, burning and he gasped for breath. Fingers digging into his side of the mattress because his instincts bashed into his mind that he was alone. No, Yuuri was next to him. As soon as Viktor caught a whiff of Yuuri’s scent and heard Yuuri’s voice and felt Yuuri’s trembling hands when they soothed his arm, Viktor opened his eyes weakly.

It was three a.m. They had a few options. There were pills in the medicine cabinet that could dull the effects of the rut, or they could do something. Right here, right now. With Yuuri perched over Viktor, comforting him. With Viktor, ragged and instincts clenched his heart and rationale with a vice-grip. Viktor shook his head, and fear took over. Fear dampened every sheet in between until Yuuri reached out and held Viktor’s hand. What was Viktor comfortable with? Even then, Viktor couldn’t respond. Tears welled in his eyes, and he kept rubbing them. Trying to find an answer within himself, but nothing felt right. In the darkness of that night, a whimper crept from Viktor’s lips when he couldn’t smell Yuuri anymore. One moment, cinnamon was right next to him. The next moment, he felt truly alone.

Viktor opened his eyes slowly. Blind for a moment, unable to see the ceiling or the fan or even Yuuri. After a few blinks, when his breathing was under control, Viktor turned his head by a few degrees. He saw Yuuri, almost as if his husband was a stranger now. Yuuri and worry creased over his face. Yuuri and anguish spilling from a corner of his eyes because for a moment, he didn’t recognize Viktor. Yuuri and there was no scent to him. Either Yuuri had nullified his own scent, or Viktor simply couldn’t smell anything because of how imbalanced his hormones were. If there was a spectrum, he was in the far left. Just a notch away from what felt like insanity because Viktor knew that Yuuri was next to him and yet, he felt alone.

Yuuri scratched behind his neck. A sleeve from over his oversized t-shirt slipped from his shoulder. What was Viktor comfortable with? That question came out normally for Yuuri, but it was more personal to Viktor. He didn’t know how to respond. Was there a response? He didn’t want to take the pills. His body had hurt itself thrice over because of them, and Viktor never took a pill after he married Yuuri because... _ Because Viktor didn’t want to lose himself to this rut. _ Every time, Viktor felt like he was fighting a losing battle when it came to pills because he wasn’t allowed to fight on his own terms. The pill, a taunting white, always ripped Viktor’s soul into thousands of fluttering pieces while the shell was left to tape up the damage.

Yuuri asked again. What was Viktor comfortable with?

Not the pill, of course. Perhaps, what Viktor needed right now was company. Until dawn, Yuuri stayed and whispered reassurance to Viktor. When the sun came up, Yuuri had to leave for rink practice. He promised to tell Yakov of what had happened earlier this morning, and Viktor mumbled his thanks. Aware that at some point in the day, he had to get up and shower. Clean himself, pamper his body with a hot bath of sorts, and try not to limp too much while his rut made itself cozy in the guest room for the next week.

Yuuri scented one of his shirts and gave it to Viktor. Viktor snuggled it against his side, and Yuuri asked if he needed to get anything for Viktor. Toys, snacks, a teething ring, anything? Viktor requested for another shirt, so Yuuri scented that and tucked it over his husband’s chest. Ruts weren’t pretty with how they twisted the mind with a knife. Often times, there wasn’t a word that could describe how a person felt during those first few moments. But like many things, Viktor knew that he had to take things one step at a time if he wanted to recover on his own. His body was still weak and recovering, but knowing that he wasn’t alone gave him a peace of mind.

 

**Makkachin**

Makkachin slept on top of a pile of fleece blankets every night. Sometimes, she enjoyed her snooze on the couch by the remote control. Sometimes, she slept in the kitchen and tucked a squeaky toy under her chin. Sometimes, the pitter patter of her footsteps woke Viktor up at night. Hovering at the doorway during those nights, Viktor would whistle and Makkachin came up to him. Dragging behind her was her favorite fleece blanket, because she knew that her masters made it specifically for her. By their own hands, too!

Makkachin’s tail wagged like a rudder when she followed after Viktor and climbed into bed. Yuuri shifted in his sleep, chuckling softly when Makkachin kissed him. Her paw rested on his side, and she lifted her head to sniff Yuuri’s hair. With almost the entire family in the same bed, Viktor wiggled onto his side and wished his family a goodnight.

**Author's Note:**

> The fandom doctor prescribed to me a fluff prompt of 5+1 after feeling down for a few weeks. After writing angst and drama for so long, writing fluff makes me feel alive again. Not only that, I got to brush up on my descriptions so that was a nice bonus too~!
> 
> tumblr: @yuuris-piano


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